I had every intention of doing Part 2 of yesterday’s story… But that didn’t happen. So here’s a shorter story…

When they come to me, they’re desperate. At their wit’s end. I am their only hope.

And I always come through.

“Please, please, you have to help us!” The most recent clients – let’s call them the Joneses – begged my assistant over the phone. “The ghosts have made our lives a living hell! Our house in untenable! Please!”

Was that the exact thing they said? I’m not sure – it was a variation on that theme. It always is. And the story is always similar: they got the place cheap – too cheap. They moved in only to discover that things go bump in the proverbial night – that’s how it starts. But it always escalates. And they always try “everything.”

For the record, “Everything” includes mostly things that just piss the ghosts off: seances, Ouija board sessions, psychics, maybe the odd clergy member, some burning of sage, and the worst: ghost hunters. Oh Jesus, nothing will turn a ghost from fuss to fright quicker than a tattooed 20-something with copious piercings and a film crew. If they get that far and the ghosts haven’t figured out a way to, uh, disappear the residents (it happens, believe me), then that’s when they call me.

First and foremost: the NDA.

It’s been vetted by a collection of lawyers that scare people more than the ghosts we take care of. Calling it “Iron clad” is the understatement of the year. Suffice it to say: we cover our butts – that’s why you won’t find my name on reddit, or Facebook, or, you name it.

Word of mouth only. And, trust me, we have plenty of business.

“Please, please, you have to help us!” That’s right, the Joneses….

I will walk the house first. Nice place – craftsman, built probably sixty years ago. They’re the latest in a long string of short-stayed residents. Difference is the market is crap and they’re overextended. Make this work or else (fiscally speaking).

By the time I’m back my researcher, Caitlin, has done a full workup on the place: deeds, titles, and property records since time immemorial. I want to know who’s owned it, what they did to it, and what the people they ultimately stole the property from did there. Everything. There’s even a call into the University archeology department. Did I mention Caitlin was good? The best.

Now we know the who, the why, the when. With my boots (well, kitten heels) on the ground, I’ve at least felt the angry denizens of chez Jones. Now it’s time for work.

First: outfit change. I prefer my black leotard with lavender leg warmers ­– yes, I picked those up in the 80’s, and if they were good enough for Jane Fonda, damnit, they’re good enough for my ghosts. Headband on, back to the house.

The Joneses are out of the house – non-negotiable. First thing upon entering, even the most combative spirit is confused by my ensemble. Getting them off-balance at first is key.

“Gather ‘round, spirits, ghosts, ghouls, demons,” this is where they look at each other in confusion. It’s rather amusing, really, if it weren’t so terrifying.

I get right into it. Caitlin presses play on her phone and the Sonos speaker is blasting Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding On For a Hero.”

“Let’s go, ghosts!” I start bouncing back and forth, “Let’s get moving! Get those legs up!” I kick in time with the beat. The spirits are trying to figure out what’s going on, but nothing on earth or beyond can deny Bonnie Tyler. Blood – or ectoplasm – is flowing as Bonnie ends and we drastically change the tempo with some Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like The Wolf.”

“Come on, ghouls! How do you plan on rattling those chains if you can’t keep up here?” I say, moving to the mid-tempo rocker.

I hear you – you’re doubting my methods. Understandable. Stop reading right now – go to the media player of your choice and put on Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” – the next track I unleash on the undead – and dare tell me that you’re not moving by mid-chorus. I assure you, there isn’t an undead fiend out there who is beyond the reach of Kenny Loggins.

By this point I’ve worked up a sweat (please note the head band is more than aesthetic – it’s absolutely functional!). I can see the ghosts are starting to become more translucent. Some of the younger shades might have already winked out of existence. That’s when I bring out the big guns.

“Eye Of The Tiger.”

It’s double time now, and those ghosts are moving. By the time Dave Bickler announces that the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, even the most entrenched, depraved, terrifying ghost has winked out of existence.

There’s always the exception, though. The Joneses’ had one ancient spirit that kept time with Bonnie Tyler, it shifted to Duran Duran. Even Kenny Loggins wasn’t too much for it, and for Eye of the Tiger, I guess you could say this ghoul was the real Survivor…

When the song ended, I stared into the ghost’s red eyes and said, “Great job on the cardio. Next we start leg day!” Poof.

The house is clear.

Another successful round of exercising the ghosts.

I know I just finished a multi-part story, and here I go again splitting this one. It felt right, though – there’s two distinct locations for this story and this seemed like a natural place to split it. And I’ve got a big weekend coming up, so it’s nice to have the second half already mapped out in my brain. In any event, get a coat – it’s going to get cold…

“Yeah, I’m a San Francisco girl,” Melissa smiled. God, that smile!

“I didn’t think anyone was actually, you know, from San Francisco. It seems like everyone moved here. You must feel like an endangered species.”

“That’s me,” she laughed and flipped her blonde hair, “a rare bird!” We both laughed. “How about you? I know now you’re not of the same endangered species as me,” she waggled her eyebrows and I swear something melted inside me. “Where did you grow up?”

“I grew up in Michigan,” I said.

“Oh,” she said. “Like Detroit?”

“You get points for naming a city in Michigan,” I laughed. “No, I lived in a tiny town in the Upper Peninsula. Have you heard of Marquette?”

“Just their basketball team.”

“College basketball fan,” I gave an approving look. “Another point in your favor.”

“Thank you, thank you,” she said nodding.

“But Marquette University is actually in Wisconsin. Milwaukee. Marquette, Michigan is a town on Lake Superior and was like a thriving metropolis for the tiny town I lived in.”

“That sounds adorable!”

“If by ‘adorable’ you mean cold as hell in the winter, you’re spot on,” I laughed. “My dad owned the gas station and garage in town.”

“Wow, small town boy!” she said as the waiter brought our drinks and we were both quiet for a moment as she tried her Sauvignon Blanc and I tasted my Old Fashioned. “I’ll remember not to make any comments about being cold in our California ‘winters’” she actually made air quotes with her fingers when she said “winters.” “What brought you out to California?”

I thought about how to summarize so much. This first date was going great and I felt genuine chemistry. But it was our first date, so I went for the abbreviated version. “My dad died when I was in high school,” I said. “My mom had left when I was a little kid, so I didn’t have anything tying me to the upper peninsula… I got a cross country scholarship offer for Berkeley and, well…” My blood ran cold as I saw my glass frost over. I needed to change the subject. “That was, fifteen years ago… how long until this transplant gets native status?”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “You know, the red-tailed fox has been in the state since the 1880s and they’re still considered invasive…”

The frost on my glass had gotten so thick that I had to take my hand off it. It didn’t look like Melissa had noticed, though. “So, you’re saying I have no chance.”

She tipped her head and smiled a gorgeously wicked smile. “Well, like Vulpes vulpes, here you are preying on a native species…”

The frost was spreading and I could see ice crystals radiating out from my glass. Not now, I thought. Shit. “You know a lot about the red-tailed fox,” I said.

“I’m a wildlife manager for the East Bay Regional Park District and we’re studying whether we want– Oh my god, what is that?” she said as she noticed the frost spreading towards her side of the table and instinctively recoiled.

Before I could say something —and I had no idea what I was going to say to explain it — the rocks glass, thick with frost cracked with a loud pop, its liquid contents spilling across the table.

Melissa leapt up to avoid the spilled alcohol. Then she screamed.

I looked in the direction she was looking and saw Him sitting next to me in the booth. He looked the same as always –ten years old, mop of black hair, freckles standing out starkly on the unnaturally-pale skin, eyes black. Not dark – fully black, empty eyes stared at Melissa who grabbed for her purse as she scrambled back through the restaurant towards the door. I didn’t move. Every eye in the diner was on me and the booth but by that point the boy had vanished, as had the frost leaving behind just a spilled drink and me, alone. Again.

—–

“Oh shit, Richie. It happened again, didn’t it?”

“’Hi Richie, how are you?’ ‘Thanks for asking, Jules. Not great, actually…’” I said into the phone as I walked up 23^rd Street towards the house I shared. “Jesus, am I that predictable?”

“Hi Richie, how are you?” she recited her line. “No, that doesn’t work. Look, it’s not that you’re predictable, but for fuck’s sake, it’s 9:30 on a Friday night. You’re either calling me from jail or because your ghost ruined another date.”

“There’s no other reason?”

“It could have been the coroner calling because I’m listed as the emergency contact.”

“You’re a morbid bitch, Jules.”

“That’s why you love me!”

“What am I going to do, Jules? He keeps showing up! I swear it’s getting worse!” I fumbled with my keys in the front door of the three-story Victorian.

“You’re going to have to face him or…”

“Face him? How?” I asked stepping inside and locking the door behind me.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to come back to Ishpeming.”

I waved at my housemate, Lyra, doing yoga in the front room as I walked to my room. She waved and then turned inclined her head curiously. “Yeah, because I want to go back to Ishpeming in the dead of winter…” I fumbled with the lock on the door to my room.

She sighed, “I’ve got a spare room for you, Richie. You know that.”

“Thanks, Jules. You’re a good friend.”

“Was she cute?”

I closed the door and flopped onto my bed, “Ugh, so cute!”

“Shit.”

“Shit,” I repeated. “It’s after midnight there. I’m keeping you up. I’ll call you later. Thank you,” I said sincerely.

“You’ve always had my back, Richie; I’ve always got yours.”

“You’re a good friend,” I said with a smile on my face.

“Don’t you forget it!” she said, laughed, and hung up.

A knock came at my door. I opened it and saw Lyra standing there with a funny look on her face. “Hey Lyra,” I said. “Everything okay?”

“Who’s the kid that followed you in?”

My blood ran cold. “Oh geez, you saw him?” I looked around wildly for Him. “Where is He?”

Lyra stared at me for a long moment then her eyes widened in recognition. “He’s you!” she said.

“He… yeah… I mean… was me, I guess….” I kept peering around her tiny frame trying to get a glimpse of Him.

“He’s behind you. Sitting on your bed.” Then she screwed up her face. “I mean, I guess you’re behind you on your bed? This is getting complicated…”

I spun but didn’t see anything on my bed. “I don’t see anything.”

“Oh sorry,” she said, then leaned really close to my face and said seriously with wide eyes, “I see dead people.” Then giggled.

Jesus Christ, why do I surround myself with these people?!

Her giggle subsided and she walked past me into my room and sat in my desk chair staring at my bed, presumably at my ghost. “Why are you haunting yourself?” Then she held up a finger, “No, how are you haunting yourself? That’s a better place to start.”

I moved to the bed and sat down right where she had indicated my ghost was sitting.

“He’s right– ooh,” she winced.

“Good,” I said. “I hope I smothered the bastard for ruining my date.”

“Ooh, with Melissa?”

“Yeah,” I said sadly.

“So, how?”

I let out a sigh and started at the beginning. “I died when I was ten,” I said. “Me and Joey Turturro were skating on a lake just outside town. It was the middle of March and we had an early thaw. We weren’t supposed to be out there, but we…” I scoffed, “I don’t even remember why we thought it was so important to skate that day.” I looked up and met Lyra’s eyes, “Kid logic, right? Everything is so important in the moment…” I thought back to that unseasonably warm day on the ice. I remembered the cracking. The careful moving back towards thicker ice. “The ice cracked beneath me. I fell in. Joey went for help, but… small town, you know? They pulled my body out and I was…” I made a flat gesture with my hand, “cold. Dead. I was dead, clinically. Life Flighted to St. Cloud. Something about the frigid temperature preserved my body… I’ve read stuff about it since but it doesn’t make much sense to me. But they… brought me back.”

“And your ghost?”

“He didn’t show up for a few years, and then it was just fleeting glimpses – I’d see him standing on a frozen pond looking at me as I drove past, or I’d see him in the reflection of a window…”

“It’s gotten worse?”

I nodded.

“You’re going to have to face him.”

I laughed, “You sound like my friend Julie.”

“Work friend?” Lyra asked.

“From Michigan. We grew up together. She might as well have been my sister.” I put my hands behind me and leaned back in the bed only to sink my hands into a layer of frost on the bedspread. I jumped up at the shock of cold.

Lyra, for her part, didn’t so much as flinch. “Yeah, Julie is right. You’re going to have to face your ghost.”

“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed!” Maria said as she climbed out of the airport shuttle.

“I bet!” Tina said passing through the door as the driver closed the door as he hurried to the trunk.

“Uh, I’m sure you can’t,” he said awkwardly.

“What?” she turned and looked at him, then at Tina. “Oh! Sorry! I, uh, think out loud sometimes.”

“Busted,” Tina snickered.

Maria opened the front door and walked inside and stopped and stared at the tall dark-haired stranger in her living room. He stood up from the couch and stood wide-eyed.

“That guy is going to tell that story about you talking to yourself for months! Oh, hello!” Tina stopped short behind Maria.

“Uh… hi?” the man stammered.

“Honey, is that you?” Martin called from the kitchen. He stepped into the living room drying his hands on a dish towel. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you I was feeding Chris— Oh…”

Maria stared at the young man. The young man stared at Maria. Martin stared at the two of them.

“Well, this is weird,” Tina said with a nervous laugh. “Martin? Did you pick up a stray while we were gone?”

“You’re dead,” Maria stated.

“Umm… Yeah, so I’ve been told. But you can see me, too?”

“Yeah, which is weird in itself…”

“That is weird,” Tina agreed, nodding.

“Sorry, honey, I forgot to tell you… Samuel,” he started introductions, “This is my wife, Maria. Maria, this is Samuel.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Pleased to meet you, too,” Maria replied. “Umm, Martin… how’d this happen?”

“Which part?”

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s start with the ghost in the living room.”

“Uh, Sis, technically there are two ghosts in the living room,” Tina corrected. Maria stared daggers at Tina who said, “You know, this ghost will just stand back here if you need me…”

“Thursday, Antony and I were responding to a 10-57…”

“Hit and run,” Tina interjected. Maria looked at her sideways. “What? I pay attention!”

“Right, hit and run over on Crenshaw.”

“I was crossing the street,” Samuel said. “Next thing I know…” he gestured to his slightly translucent body.

“Speeding Mercedes didn’t even slow down for the red light. Hit Samuel here, lost control and crashed into a light pole. Both Samuel and the driver were deceased when we rolled up.”

“I… I didn’t know what was happening. I’m walking and then I hear a crash and then… I’m looking at the crumpled car and this just… obliterated body that was… me. I freaked out.”

“I get it,” Tina nodded compassionately.

“No one saw me, no one was responding to me, I didn’t know what was going on… And then I saw that your husband was looking at me. At me, not through me like everyone else.”

“And you… followed him home?” Maria asked.

“Aww, like I said, picking up a stray!”

“Who are you?” Samuel asked Tina.

She pointed at Maria, “Her sister. Tina. I’ve been dead a long time. It’s all good. Well, I mean, not good. Nothing about being dead is good, am I right?” He stared at her wordlessly. “Okay, tough crowd… Maria?”

“I mean, I think what my sister was inelegantly trying to ask was, why are you here?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Presumably the driver didn’t stick around… wait,” she turned to Martin, “Did he?”

“She,” Martin corrected. “And no. That was a weird thing, too. When we rolled up I saw Samuel here standing around confused, and I saw the ghost of the driver talking to a tall wiry man in a long, white, billowy robe… then they both disappeared but Samuel here… well, you can see he’s still here.”

“I get that you can see him. You see all the ghosts – Tina, too, of course. But why can I see him? We were just in the most haunted city in the country, and I never even got to see the woman my sister made out with!”

“Maria!” Tina scolded. “We didn’t ‘make out’!”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“I mean…” Tina’s face turned beet red as she smiled shyly. “Well, you didn’t need to tell anyone about it!”

“I don’t know why you can see me. Other than your husband, you seem to be the only other person–”

Tina cleared her throat.

“Uh, the only other living person,” he amended, “who can see me.”

“Do you have any family? A wife? Parents?”

“I don’t, no. My folks died years ago. I was in a relationship a few years ago, but I only recently moved to the Valley. I honestly don’t know anyone out here.”

“Well,” Tina started, “You know us now.” She caught Maria’s eye and nodded imperceptibly. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” She turned and let out a little laugh. “It’s funny, actually, Maria and I have gone on a bunch of Ghost Tours lately. Now I’m sort of giving one!” Samuel followed Tina up the stairs.

When they were presumably out of earshot, Maria moved closer to Martin. “Well, that’s weird!”

“No kidding,” Martin replied. “I’m usually good at getting ghosts to leave me alone, but he just looked so… lost.”

“I can see that,” Maria said looking up to where Tina and Samuel had disappeared.

“Sounds like you guys had fun!”

“Oh, man, it was a blast,” she said. “I might have drank a little bit…” she put her hands to her temples.

“You? Drink? In New Orleans? That’s crazy! And Tina made out with a ghost?!”

“She didn’t give many details, but it sounds like it was… something,” she waggled her eyebrows.

“Wow, that’s great!”

“Yeah, she really let herself go and had a good time. I mean, we both did, but I was really glad she was able to have fun on her own, you know?”

“I do. And, if I’m honest, I’m really glad you’re both back! I really didn’t know what to do with Samuel. Communicating with him is one thing, but… I mean… I don’t know what to do! We watched the Dodger game, he’s made faces at Christy while I fed her, but, I mean, there’s only so much I can do with a ghost I’ve just met.

“We’ll see if Tina has any insight.”

They were both quiet for a few moments until rapid knocking came from the front door. It sounded like not one but two people knocking.

“What the?” Martin asked, trading a quizzical look with Maria before stepping to the door and opening it.

In front of them stood two identical men. Well, they had identical features – neatly trimmed black hair, clean shaven faces, the same blue eyes – but one was dressed in a white three-piece suit while the other sported a scarlet red three piece suit.

“What the hell?” Maria asked stepping up behind Martin.

“Hello,” they both said at the same time. “I’m–” they started at the same time, stopped and looked at each other in frustration then started talking over each other again.

“Stop!” Martin said with what Maria thought of as his “cop voice.” “Who are you?” When they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time again, he held up a hand. “One at a time. You,” he pointed to the man in white, “Who are you?”

The man in the white suit gave the red suited man a self-satisfied look before starting, “We’re, well, we’re here from the afterlife.”

“Well, you are,” the man in red said. “I’m from,” he looked towards the ground, “Uh, places south,” he winked.

“We’re here for Samuel,” the man in white said. “We believe he’s here.”

“Well,” Maria said, “this is awkward…”

There isn’t a part 4, don’t worry. I’m leaving this one a little open-ended. It’s entirely possible we’ll revisit Maria and Tina and now Samuel later this month.